


...And I'll tell you no lies

by AliceInKinkland



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Fixation, Sex Magic, but like...creepy sex magic, in...more ways than one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 08:31:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13632588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceInKinkland/pseuds/AliceInKinkland
Summary: Gaining the Grandmaster's favour is getting...a bit more intense than Loki anticipated. But it's nothing he can't handle, right? Loki can talk his way out of anything—as long as he's able to talk, that is.





	...And I'll tell you no lies

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [led-lite](http://led-lite.tumblr.com/) for the prompt that made this fic ten times better than it was before! And thanks to Lise/[veliseraptor](http://veliseraptor.tumblr.com/) for graciously letting me borrow a prompt originally sent to her!

Loki awoke slowly, his consciousness drifting back to him in fragments. Despite the soreness of his body, he felt luxuriantly warm and well-rested. Funny that he’d slept so well; he’d been sleeping in fits since his first day on Sakaar. Dangerous, too, perhaps; this wasn’t a place he should let his guard down. But then, perpetual sleep deprivation was also dangerous. Best to just enjoy the feeling.

He shifted, his muscles protesting, and flashes of...the previous night? early that morning?...came back to him. The softness of the sheets against his skin reminded him further, and he felt a pleasant shiver run through him and settle between his legs. Perhaps it was not really surprising how soundly he’d slept, considering how his endurance had been pushed to its limits just hours before.

He stretched out his legs. He was pretty sure he was still in the Grandmaster’s bed (one of his beds), which comfortably fit four (and, as he’d learned last night, somewhat less comfortably fit seven). He was alone, presumably. He remembered the others leaving; the Grandmaster tucking him in, disarmingly gentle for someone who had just fucked him so brutally; the way he’d leaned into the touch before he could consider what that meant.

Perhaps that was something to ruminate on, now that he was awake and alone—how unpredictable he continued to find his host, and how similarly unpredictable he found his own reactions to him. No, best only think of the first thing. That was what was important.

He’d expected to be further along in creating a concrete plan by now, or at least further established, more sure of his position here. As it was, he was mostly glad the previous night’s debauchery had been predominantly of a flavour he enjoyed. That hadn’t been the case every night.

He frowned. Really? Did he truly think to paint himself a victim?

No, here was a better story: he was getting close to the tyrant, waiting for a weakness to inevitably reveal itself. And he was having fun while doing it.

Mostly.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

Loki opened his eyes. Sunlight streamed through the Grandmaster’s room, glinting off the irregular skyline. Afternoon, he estimated, if his fledgling Sakaaran sense of direction was correct. He rolled over to find the Grandmaster staring down at him. He should have realized he wasn’t alone.

Loki was suddenly conscious of his nakedness, of the sour taste in his mouth, of the tangle in his hair that he was pretty sure was someone’s—possibly multiple someones’—cum. The Grandmaster was holding a glass full of orange liquid. Loki sat up.

“Were you watching me sleep?” Loki asked, his jaw aching as he spoke. As far as Loki could tell, the Grandmaster didn’t sleep himself.

“Was I—? You’re really funny, I know I’ve said that before, but I mean it. That would be so _boring_! No, I popped in just now and, uh, woke you up.” He held out another glass identical to his own. “Mimosa?”

“You—what? How?” Loki tried to remember if he’d felt anything, heard anything, to pull him from his slumber. He took the proffered glass and sipped it, hoping it contained nothing but whatever a mimosa was.

“So many questions!” the Grandmaster said, pressing his finger to Loki’s lips in a _shh_ gesture. “Why can’t we just enjoy our breakfast?”

Loki looked around for food, but didn’t see any. He wasn’t all that hungry, actually, but mid-afternoon cocktails didn’t fall under his idea of breakfast. Apparently they did for the Grandmaster.

The Grandmaster leaned in, and Loki parted his lips, readying himself for a kiss. He’d learned early on what kind of kisses the Grandmaster preferred: submissive without being passive, a giving up of control but not technique. Loki liked to think he had mastered the art quite quickly.

The Grandmaster’s tongue dipped into his mouth, and then the Grandmaster moved his lips away, face scrunched up in disapproval. “Oof, let’s get you a breath mint or something.” He started rummaging around in one of the drawers of the bedside table.

“Or I could take a shower, eat something, get freshened up?” said Loki. He didn’t like being on the receiving end of that look, as though he were something disgusting. It wasn’t exactly his fault that his mouth tasted the way anyone would expect it to, the morning after one of the Grandmaster’s minor orgies. “You’re the one waking me up right after a night like that.”

The Grandmaster pushed a mint into Loki’s mouth. “You know what your problem is?” he said.

“Enlighten me,” said Loki, still on the defensive.

The Grandmaster laughed with the unselfconsciousness only a being who knew he had absolute power over the lives and deaths of everyone around him could possess. “You just don’t know when to, how can I put this nicely, when to shut up! It’s refreshing, I’ll give you that.”

“You’re one to talk,” said Loki, before he could think better of it. The look on the Grandmaster’s face suggested it had been the wrong move.

“See?” said the Grandmaster. His hand slid up the back of Loki’s neck to grip a fistful of his hair. “Refreshing...but not always appreciated.” He tugged, and Loki let his head fall backwards, felt prickles of pain along his scalp. Despite the sudden change in mood between them, the sensation made something hungry stir within Loki.

The Grandmaster touched his lips to Loki’s once again, and Loki quickly swallowed the rest of the mint, before opening his mouth to receive the Grandmaster’s kiss. The Grandmaster, however, pulled back, still holding Loki’s hair so that Loki could not move towards the Grandmaster’s receding mouth. Loki knew what was expected of him here, too—to strain uselessly towards the promise of a kiss, yanking his hair out by the roots in the process—but instead, Loki smiled.

“If you don’t do anything with this mouth, what’s to stop me from talking?” he said, raising an eyebrow. He let his tongue slip out to moisten his lips, his eyes never leaving the Grandmaster’s face, and sure enough, the Grandmaster was once again eyeing Loki like someone who couldn’t decide which part of a feast to devour first. Loki basked in the look even as it sent a shiver up his spine.

“That’s—ha—that’s just was I was thinking!” said the Grandmaster. “Wait right here.” He let go of Loki’s hair and got up from the bed, opening a box on a shelf by the window. When he turned back around towards Loki, he was holding a gag.

Oh.

Loki felt his heart stop, his mind lurching towards contingencies, exit strategies. He forced himself to remain still.

“This one will look good on you, I think,” the Grandmaster continued, moving to sit back down on the bed. He brushed the ball of the gag against Loki’s cheek and Loki forced himself not to flinch. “Black rubber, classic, matches your hair.”

“If I may—” Loki tried, but the Grandmaster clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Stop right there, sweetheart, or I’ll think you’re being ungrateful.” He ran a hand up Loki’s inner thigh, and despite his discomfort Loki could feel his cock stiffening in response. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. But regardless, Loki vowed to at least exhaust his persuasive powers before allowing himself to be muzzled.

He shot the Grandmaster a particularly winsome smile. “I just wonder if this kind of game would be a tad limiting. We both know how much you like what my mouth can do, after all.” To demonstrate, Loki turned his head to the side and mouthed at the fingers holding the gag.

The Grandmaster nodded, finger to his chin as though thinking deeply. Perhaps he was. Loki had still not figured out much of anything when it came to what occupied the Grandmaster’s thoughts.

“So you’d prefer to do this without the gag?” said the Grandmaster.

“If you’re amenable,” said Loki.

“Of course I am! It _would_ be a shame to let that mouth of yours go completely to waste.” The Grandmaster tossed the gag to the floor of the bedroom. “I don’t know if you’ve heard this, but some people say, so I’ve been told, that I’m, uh, unreasonable. But you know that’s not true, right?”

Loki nodded. “Of course not. Thank you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” The Grandmaster pressed two fingers to Loki’s mouth, and Loki parted his lips, reaching out his tongue only to find it caught, held firmly between the Grandmaster’s thumb and forefinger. The vulnerability of the position made him tense, but there was nothing he could do but hold still. The Grandmaster’s touch was cold, colder than it should have been, and after a moment Loki’s tongue felt cold as well, slightly numb. Then, the sensation passed, and the Grandmaster pulled back.

“That should do it,” he said. “How are you feeling, my darling Loki?”

“Like I need you to warm me up,” Loki said, or tried to say, but although he was moving his lips, his tongue, no sound was coming out of his mouth. _Wait,_ he tried, and then, _what have you done?_ and then, _please, no, stop,_ which he knew wasn’t something it would be smart to say out loud anyway, but which it was still unnerving not to be able to say at all.

He felt a dullness in his ears, his skin, as though he were deep, deep underwater. His mouth was still open and he couldn’t remember how to close it. This was pure, unadulterated panic, Loki registered vaguely, and it was not part of his plan—not for this moment, and not for his...relations with the Grandmaster more generally.

The Grandmaster slapped him, and the sting in his cheek brought Loki back into his body, like a bowstring pulled tight and then released.

“Sorry about that,” said the Grandmaster, although he didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “You just looked so—like you’d gone somewhere far away. You really spend a lot of time in your head, don’t you?”

The Grandmaster’s hand returned to Loki’s thigh, and Loki shifted, letting his legs move further apart, willing his body to relax. He could handle this.

“I think this whole, uh, not talking thing will help,” said the Grandmaster. “Today—and maybe tomorrow, actually, I’m honestly a little fuzzy on how long this will last, we’ll have to find out together—anyway, for the next little while you don’t have to think about what to say! All that effort you put into being your charming self—I’m giving you a break! All I need you to do is _feel._ ” The Grandmaster underscored his last point by reaching out and gripping Loki’s cock. Loki could feel himself becoming fully erect as the Grandmaster squeezed.

“Think of it as an exercise in, uh—a chance to practice your non-verbal communication.” The Grandmaster moved his palm from Loki’s crotch to his chest, pushing gently until Loki shifted into a lying position on the bed. The Grandmaster straddled his stomach, and Loki felt the Grandmaster’s hardness pressing against him. “For instance, right now I’d like to see a bit more enthusiasm, hmm?”

Loki thought for a moment, then, cheeks burning, adrenaline still coursing through him, he arched his back, biting his lip as he looked up at the Grandmaster. He rocked his hips, trying in vain to grind his cock against anything besides air. The Grandmaster clapped his hands.

“So eager, I love it! That’s the spirit.” The Grandmaster gripped Loki’s hair, pulling his head to one side, and bent down to nip at Loki’s neck. He kissed his way up the column of Loki’s throat to his mouth, where he bit Loki’s lower lip. Loki opened his eyes, unaware he had closed them, and found the Grandmaster staring down at him with a look he was beginning to know well—delighted, and greedy, and something else that made Loki want the Grandmaster to keep touching him even as he knew it was dangerous. “This was a good suggestion you had,” the Grandmaster said. “That gag would have closed off so many possibilities. Compromises! Such an important part of a relationship.”

 _Not exactly my suggestion_ , thought Loki. At least gags were something he knew, and painful memories aside, they were exactly the kind of sex game he had been prepared for when he’d placed himself in the path of the Grandmaster. This, on the other hand—he didn’t even know what the Grandmaster had done to him. It wasn’t a spell he knew, or even a kind of magic he could recognize. Did the Grandmaster truly not know how long the effects would last? Or was he toying with him? What if he found he enjoyed Loki like this, what if he decided to do it again once it wore off?

Loki was not going to panic, not again. This was _his_ plan, _his_ choice, and unexpected trappings aside, it was just sex. He arched his body again. His cock was still hard. He could do this.

“Ooh, see _now_ I definitely don’t think I need to hear you to know what you want.” The Grandmaster shifted so he was kneeling between Loki’s legs, parting Loki’s thighs so they were spread wide on the enormous bed. “Your cock is, uh, a good communicator. See? Talking, so overrated!”

Loki almost laughed at the irony of the Grandmaster’s words, but then the Grandmaster leaned down and took Loki into his mouth, and this time when Loki arched his back it was a whole lot less performative. He would have moaned if he could; as it was, he simply opened his mouth soundlessly, biting his bottom lip as the Grandmaster tongued the underside of his cock.

Norns, but the Grandmaster was good. His lips were pressed tight to Loki’s length, tongue swirling around Loki’s tip each time he pulled back. Loki did his best not to thrust too far into the Grandmaster’s mouth, but the longer the Grandmaster sucked him off, the harder it was to lie back and receive without taking more of an active role.

The Grandmaster pulled off with a pop, and Loki felt his cock straining as it fell to rest on his stomach. He could see it leaking over his skin, glistening with the Grandmaster’s spit.

“Do you want to come?” asked the Grandmaster, taking Loki’s cock into his hand and stroking it, slow and lazy. Loki nodded frantically.

The Grandmaster shook his head. “I—I just can’t tell if you really want it, sweetness. Are you... _desperate_ for it? We both love it when you’re desperate, don’t we?” He stilled his hand, and Loki thrust up into the Grandmaster’s fist.

The Grandmaster smiled. “Yes, like that...just because you can’t talk doesn’t mean you can’t _beg_ , right? Show me how much you want to come, I’m really—I just want to know all this work I’m doing is going to be appreciated, you know? Do you appreciate this, Loki darling?”

Loki swallowed the last of his pride and stared up at the Grandmaster with pleading eyes, which came easily, under the circumstances. He moved his hips wildly, grinding his ass against the mattress and his cock into the Grandmaster’s hand. He twisted his head from side to side, his hair mussing beneath him, letting the ache between his legs consume him, wash through him until he felt his legs twitch, his body vibrating with need. The more he moved, his breath growing shallow, his expression one of supplication, the less it felt like an act.

“Much better,” said the Grandmaster, and he began moving his hand once again, jerking Loki off with smooth, even strokes. Loki wondered how the Grandmaster kept track of the way each of his innumerable lovers liked to be touched. He was close, so close, and—

“Come for me,” the Grandmaster said, and Loki did, a burst of pleasure that radiated from between his legs out to his toes, his fingertips. He could feel himself spilling over the Grandmaster’s hand and his own stomach, his cock pulsing.

“Wow, you just look beautiful like this—remind me to have more people come on you the next time I have a party,” the Grandmaster said, as though discussing which shade of lipstick best brought out Loki’s eyes. He settled down on his side beside Loki, propping himself up with one arm, and slipped his fingers into Loki’s mouth.

For one hopeful moment, Loki imagined the Grandmaster was returning Loki’s voice, but he quickly realized he was simply expecting Loki to lick his fingers clean. So Loki set to work, laving the Grandmaster’s proffered fingers, and tasting himself, bitter against his tongue.

The Grandmaster removed his fingers and ran them across Loki’s stomach, gathering the cum that had spilled on his skin before returning them to Loki’s mouth. It had grown cold, and Loki shuddered slightly, but he sucked it off nonetheless. A soothing task, an easy kind of service.

It was moments like these, when he was warm and satiated, and the Grandmaster was babbling humiliating yet sweet praise into his ear, that Loki found it easiest to imagine he could be happy here until some aspect of his circumstances changed, to believe this whole thing was a good idea. He let himself sink into the feeling now, as much as he could.

“Look at you, so relaxed,” the Grandmaster said. “I mean, finally! You’re just so jumpy sometimes. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were scared of me or something.”

For once, Loki was glad he wasn’t expected to say anything in response.

“Don’t get too comfy though.” The Grandmaster pulled his fingers away from Loki’s tongue before Loki could fully lick them clean, and wiped them on Loki’s hair. “Your mouth has got me all, uh, inspired. What would you say about returning the favour?”

Loki nodded, but the Grandmaster was already sitting up on the edge of the mattress, tossing one of the bed’s many pillows down onto the floor. Loki took the hint and slipped off the bed to kneel at the Grandmaster’s feet. The Grandmaster lifted Loki’s chin to look into his face.

“I can’t tell whether I’m feeling something more rough or more gentle right now,” said the Grandmaster. “What do you—do you have a preference?” The Grandmaster’s hand moved to the back of his neck, his thumbnail digging in ever so lightly. Loki raised an eyebrow. Was he supposed to act out his choice, charades-style? On second thought, that did sound like the Grandmaster’s kind of thing.

“I’m betting that face means ‘rough.’ It’s, like, a challenge face, right? Perfect, that’s what I’ve decided on anyway.” With that, the Grandmaster’s hand on the nape of Loki’s neck turned forceful, pushing his mouth down onto the Grandmaster’s waiting cock. Loki barely had time to catch a breath before he felt pressure at the back of his throat.

Even with how thoroughly his throat had been used of late, Loki still couldn’t keep from gagging for a moment as the Grandmaster began fucking his mouth. The Grandmaster sighed in pleasure at the feeling of Loki’s throat spasming around his cock as Loki desperately forced his body to relax, to yield.

Loki was just settling into the feeling, giving in to the sensations, when the Grandmaster removed his palm from Loki’s neck. Loki pulled back, looking up in confusion, but the Grandmaster shook his head. “No, let’s just keep doing it, just like that, mkay? I showed you what I want, now I think it’s your turn.” The Grandmaster lay back.

Loki swallowed, then moved forward, enveloping the Grandmaster with his mouth. He relaxed his throat and pressed on, rocking his head to find the right angle to take the Grandmaster’s cock as deep as he could. His eyes watered. He felt lightheaded from lack of oxygen. It was harder this way, with nothing forcing him; harder to push his body onwards, and harder to reconcile in his mind.

Above him on the bed, the Grandmaster moaned, his babbling growing more nonsensical, all pet names and filthy praise and run-on tangential sentences, all of which cut off abruptly when he came. Loki forced himself to stay still, letting the Grandmaster spill deep down his throat. He pulled off only when he began to feel the Grandmaster softening, and heaved before he could help himself, barely keeping from throwing up.

The Grandmaster sat up, clapping. “Amazing, stunning, what a—what a performance!”

Above him, the Grandmaster was beaming. The praise warmed Loki despite himself.

The Grandmaster patted his head; then, when his hand came back sticky, wiped his palm off on his robe. He laughed fondly. “I guess under the circumstances I’ll forgive you for not thanking me. OK, now you need a shower, and I have some, uh, business to attend to, so—see you tonight, yeah?”

Loki could only nod.

* * *

Loki’s power of speech came back later that evening, when his silent scream of frustration at his continued speechlessness suddenly became not so silent after all. Loki stopped before anyone heard and came running. Then, he conjured himself a soundproof bubble, and screamed once more.


End file.
